I'm Not A Perfect Person
by Precisely-My-Point
Summary: I'm sorry that I hurt you, it's something I must live with everyday, and all the pain I put you through, I wish that I could take it all away… Please, please read warning inside.


_Disclaimer: I am obsessed but alas I do not own Glee or any of the characters involved. The title and summary line is from the song 'The Reason' by Hoobastanks._

**_Warnings: Deals with mental disorders [ADHD and IED] as well as domestic abuse and physical violence. This can be a trigger to some people so I urge you not to read this if you do not feel comfortable enough._**

**Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD) **is a behavioural disorder so that those affected have a greatly reduced ability to maintain attention without being distracted, to control what they're doing or saying (because of impulsivity) and to control the amount of physical activity appropriate to the situation.

**Intermittent Explosive Disorder (IED)** is a condition characterized by violent rages and destruction of property, persons with IED can cause self-injury and harm others. The level of anger displayed is out of all proportion to the event that triggered it.

* * *

Britt-Britt had long been diagnosed with ADHD. As a child, she was constantly active – running up trees, not caring about scraped knees or dirty clothes - and chatty – always talking about this or that whilst adults did nothing but nod and smile at the adorable rambling blonde kid. Her parent passed it off as children being children, but as she continued to grow the impulsiveness, restlessness and random bouts of tantrums carried on and grew with her. After a particular occasion in church when a five year old Britt-Britt ran up to the altar during a service and proceeded to try to climb the large wooden cross on the wall, Mr and Mrs Pierce finally decided that it was time to visit the doctor. Many exams, tests and weeks of anxious waiting later, the report finally came through – Brittany Pierce had Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder. The doctor had revealed the news with a firm smile on his face, claiming it wasn't a problem and that many children would grow out of over the years.

The day later at kindergarten, Britt-Britt tries telling her best friends – the grumpy San and mature Quinny – all about it whilst they press sand together in the sandpit, trying to create a palace for their dolls that laid discarded temporarily at the edge.

"Mummy took me to the doctor's yester-" Britt-Britt stops mid-word, too distracted by the castle. She was working on the right wall but it was slanted to one side so the little blonde tilts her head at the same angle so the castle looks straight again.

"You obviously haven't been eating your apples." Quinny lifts her head a little higher, small hands patting down the yellow grains. "I have an apple every day so the doctor never has to see me." She looks pointedly at her fashionable pink lunchbox next to her doll. Britt-Britt pouts.

"But I like oranges more." Quinny shakes her head.

"Too bad, you'll have to switch from now on, right San?" The broody girl shrugs but doesn't take her dark eyes off the thin tower that threatens to wobble and fall.

"Oranges are sweeter." Britt-Britt grins and despite sitting down crossed-legs, she bounces up and down at San's agreement whilst Quinny furrows her forehead in a way that would in later years evolve into her trademark scowl. Abandoning the work on her part of the palace (the front gates and moat), Quinny crosses her arms just like her mother does if she did something naughty.

"Why do you always side with Britt-Britt? Even when she's wrong," for the first time in the conversation, San's eyes finally leave the smooth granules to bore into accusing hazel orbs.

"Daddy says people in Britain drive on the wrong side of the road." Britt-Britt glances curiously at San; she had yet to pull away from the little staring competition – both to stubborn to back down. "Are you from Britain, San? Britain sounds like Brittany; maybe I'm from Britain."

"No." San finally breaks away from Quinny's glare to answer Britt-Britt directly, who was rubbing at her nose hence covering her face with sand. "You're not and neither am I." San edges slightly closer to brush away the sand stuck on her face with the back of her hand, careful not to wipe more on accidentally. "So why were you at the doctor's?" Britt-Britt scrunches her nose at the tickling sensation.

"Mummy and daddy were worried about me; the doctor said I have trouble being focused and not fidgety. He said it was called…" Britt-Britt looks around the playground, trying to find some sort of recognition that could help her remember what the kind man had said. Instead, she gets distracted by the fluffy clouds that hover over them. Wary of the bright ball beside a particular cloud, Britt-Britt squints a little, "hey look at that cloud, doesn't it look like Charity?" Both the other girls look up and focus on the specific cloud Britt-Britt points at.

"It doesn't look anything like a cat-"

"Yeah it really does." Quinny glares at San once more.

"Stop doing that." San shrugs nonchalantly again. This wasn't the first time Santana defies Quinn and it certainly wasn't the last time that she supports Brittany. Over the years, dolls and sandpits would be forgotten and exchanged for mascara and magazines, but one thing remained steadily constant – Santana _always_ favoured Brittany, much to Quinn's dismay.

* * *

B didn't trust doctors. One had told her parents many, many years ago that she would grow out of her uncontrollable, scatterbrained state. He lied. Even now at the age of seventeen, B was still just as ditzy and spaced-out as she always was. Something had changed though. Every now and then, she could feel things building up inside her, something that didn't build up to pleasure like how S would give her. As a matter of fact, it was the opposite – this uncomfortable, ugly ache would start up in her head first before slithering down to her chest and spreading all over her limbs. It didn't hurt as such, but it was enough to make the blonde increasingly frustrated by the developing uneasiness as it crushed her ribs and pulled at her muscles in a way that was similar to how she get pins and needles in her feet if she sits cross-legged for too long.

The first time she wakes up feeling like that, B really had no idea as to why she felt like she could scream and shout at whoever was close enough. Briefly, she considers telling her mum she wasn't feeling well as she slowly walks down the stairs, unlike her usual bounding. Just as rounds the corner and catches sight of her mum in the kitchen, a loud car horn startles her, informing that her ride to school – Q and no doubt S too – were here. Ignoring the weird sensations and urges, B tries to shake off the odd consciousness as she grabs a shiny red apple from the fruit bowl. With a slightly less cheery and somewhat more forced smile to her mum; she opens the front door, convinced the abnormality would go away soon.

By the time Q pulls up in their spot next to the field, the discomfort was still parading around inside of B even more so than before. Noticing no difference, Q frees the seat belt and jumps out of the car whilst B, in the passenger seat, fumbles with pressing the red button. A smooth, tan hand reaches out and covers hers to stop the scuffling. B traces her eyes up the arm back to their owner – S – who sat leant forward in the back so she was resting between the two front seats.

"You're quieter than usual." It wasn't a question, just a statement of what she saw yet B couldn't help but notice a hint of annoyance run through her. Confused about the sudden emotion, the blonde does nothing but nod once. It was so strange; B had never, _ever_ felt annoyed at S before. Okay, maybe B had been upset and slightly annoyed that one time when S wouldn't let her have any more candyfloss at the theme park because she was already on a sugar-induced high from it, but then S made up for it a few days later by buying her a pink mini make-your-own candyfloss machine which they binged on until they could consume no more. Even then, B had been playing up to the annoyance, but right now she felt genuine irritation and it frightens her a little.

"I don't know what's wrong with me but I really don't feel so great." S unsnaps the belt for her and moves the same hand to grasp B's shoulder.

"Want to go see the nurse?" B shakes her head but when she stops, her hands start to shake a little instead.

"No I'll be fine thanks."

"She could probably fix you up with something."

"No really, I think it's all that cheese I ate at dinner last night. Maybe it'll fade soon." The grip on her shoulder tightening does nothing but make the blonde's hands tremble more forcefully.

"Babe, seriously, we'll go before class-"

"I said no!" Impulsively, B turns her body to fling S's hand off of her shoulder. Her hand bounces off the cushioned headrest and lands limply in S's own lap. There was a silence where B was catching her breath from the outburst and whilst not hurt, S was too shocked to process what had just occurred. The driver's door flies open causing both girls to jump when Q's head pops in.

"Err hello? I hope you guys aren't making out in my car again because I'm sick of being late to cover for the both of you." Q flip-flops her gaze between the two unmoving girls before landing on S and raising her eyebrows at her. Blinking rapidly, S nods at Q's wordless command and hops out of the car without as much as a glance backwards. Q turns to B, "Well don't just sit here, let's go." Heartbeat finally returning to normal, B shakes her head slowly.

"You guys go first; I'll see you in class." Q releases a you're-kidding-me-right laugh and fleetingly looks at S who stood behind her, shuffling her feet and looking out to the empty field.

"What? You don't even know which class you have-" A gentle hand on her waist stops Q. She twists her head back to S confused.

"You heard the girl, see you in Biology B." Q stares at S's uncomfortable and awkward posture, she couldn't understanding what could have possibly happened the short time between her getting out of the car and back in to check on them.

"Right…" Q drawls out slowly. "Okay well, bye for now then I guess." Q makes a half-wave motion then fully retracts herself from the car and tosses the keys at the blonde inside before shutting the door.

B watches the pair of them walk towards the large double doors as she takes in Q's persistent hand actions that she makes when she's trying to grill information out of people and S's unusual silence and how her eyes stay firmly fixed on the ground three feet in front of her. B didn't understand what had happened – she remembers feeling puzzled as to why she felt irritated. S had tried to be a good friend but if anything her constant advices just bothered B even more. Up to the point where the nuisance grew so much that B had verbally (and accidentally physically) pushed S away. B really couldn't recall her thoughts or feelings in those split-seconds but as she had sat there, catching her breath and slowing her racing heart, B couldn't help but be overcome with the relief after having holding in the weird emotions all morning. That discomfort had evaporated mostly, she still had bit of a headache but at least the tightness in her chest has left. Crystal blue eyes lands on a small fly crawling cautiously along the steering wheel. B gazes at the insect as if this new tiny friend of hers could answer a question for her – _why had the lashing out felt so good?_

The summer sun scorches the little town of Lima with not even a speck of cloud in the sky to hide behind. Luckily, a light breeze pities the citizens and decides to accompany the bright heat to make it the perfect weather for a trademark good summer's day. Even birds were chirping in their nests whilst children just let out of school were crowded around an ice-cream van, chatting excited to one and another about their day and various flavours they were going to buy. Normally, if a day was as good as this after Cheerio practice, B would drag S along, and probably Q too, to indulge on some of that creamy cold goodness. Q would usually protest at first, blathering on about how Coach would torture them if they were caught, but then S would normally roll her eyes whilst pushing the swarm of little kids out of the way and just before they were about to pay, Q would change her mind and order a vanilla and strawberry cone too. However, today was different. After practice, Q had to leave for a dentist check-up and despite having accepted B's apology in first period; S was still conflicted about what went down earlier so she had decided to go home instead of going round B's like she usually does. The blonde certainly wasn't complaining though, the ease and normality had lasted all the way up to the last period before the previous anxiety and build up of nuisance returned even stronger than before. And now, as B walks down the street of her house, she couldn't help but roll her eyes at the sky and weakly frown at the noisy children on the opposite side of the road. When she finally reaches home, it was with a bang as she refrains from fully slamming the front door shut.

"Brittany? Is that you?" B sighs, she considers ignoring her mum and going straight to her room briefly before she shakes her head, deciding her mum was worth more than that. She makes her way to the dining room where her mother sat, flurries of pieces of paper scattered all over the mahogany table in front of her.

"Hey mum." B leans on the doorframe, fully aware that her mother was inspecting her over the rim of a thick black folder.

"Sweetie, you look really pale, what's wrong?" The exasperation hits B hard, she was so sick of everyone asking her that today.

"Nothing is wrong, okay?" A pang of guilt sinks into B when she catches her mother's taken aback expression. Sighing, B steps into the room, wrapping her arms tightly around herself as her mother stands up and walks over to her. "I just… I've been feeling really off today." Her mother nods and brushes B's side bangs out of the way.

"PMS?" B frowns, resisting the temptation to roll her eyes. A tingling sensation starts up, just under the skin of the back of her neck but she ignores it.

"I know where I am." Her mother blinks once confused, pressing the back of her head against her daughter's forehead.

"I don't quite understand dear." The blonde shakes her head to clear the crawling feeling that was spreading down her back yet it remains.

"I don't need a little machine to tell me where I'm going." Her mum frowns before sliding the back of her hand down to press against B's neck.

"That's a GPS sweetie and you're burning up really hot. Do you need to see a doctor? You're shaking too." B lifts her hand up for inspection. Her mum was right, she was trembling but she could barely feel it, the prickling was all over her body now and she was aware of nothing but just that.

"No, it's fine. I just…" B's breathing starts to grow shallower; it felt like there were armies of ants running all over her and the image of that made her swallow hard. "I need to lie down for a bit," she mumbles. As she turns around, her mother's pressing hand on the shoulder stops her escape.

"Honey, you seem really sick," Brittany shakes her head but the hand continues to clutch at her tightly, "you go lie down and I'll just call the doctors-"

"I said no doctors!"

In the back of B's mind, it felt almost like déjà vu the way she turns around, flinging her mother's hand away from her. Except this time, there was no soft head rests to bounce on and the rage had taken over B enough for her to blindly shove her mother squarely, sending her flying to her floor, head less than an inch from hitting the corner of the hard mahogany table. B couldn't control herself since the stings all over her body persisted. She desperately wants to knock the photo frames off of the cabinets, as well as throw that lamp until it smashed into millions of glittering pieces against the wall. Something deep inside of herself held her back from all that destruction but it was a struggle for her to tightly clench her fist and resist the itch to demolish the room. Instead, B uncontrollably let out her irritation verbally.

"I told you! I said I was fine, what don't you understand? Why can't you just leave me alone when I tell you to!" B draws in a deep breath and screams as loud as she could. It wasn't one of her high-girly squeaks when someone splashes her with water and it wasn't one of her pleasurable groans when S does that thing with her hands. No, it was a gut-wrenching howl where she let out all that held back anger and urge to tear everything down. Each decibel that she releases felt like a bit of that fury was escaping her. As all the air was gone from her lungs, she sinks to the floor, head pounding, blurry eyesight but a deep relief and light feeling in her chest. It felt like she was underwater except she was able to breathe and try to catch her breath back, but the sensation of her body floating and the slightly muffled ring in her ears calms her as she closes her eyes, already halfway to falling asleep.

"Br-Brittany?" The water surrounding her suddenly freezes into a cold bucket of ice as she snaps her eyes open, fully alert and aware of her mother's cautious expression in front of her. B notices the way her mother clutches one of her wrists delicately before she could move and pretend she hadn't landed on her hand painfully when B had pushed her. A good dollop of guilt gets poured over her too along with the ice water as her violent outburst finally registers in B's mind.

"Oh my god." Distant memories of all that anger and frustration creep around the edges of her mind. It felt strange, as if B was recalling someone else's recollections. She could barely believe that she had actually blown over the top like that. "Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god. Mum, are you okay?" She scrambles forward but her mother already flinches at the first movement. B hesitates, the shame flying through her already bemused head. Slowly, B reaches out a hand, open palm facing upwards to signal that she wasn't going to hurt her (_again,_ B grimaces). Carefully, her mother holds out her injured wrist which B accepts gently. "I'm so sorry mum." Despite very lightly stroking the skin, her mother still holds back a wince.

"Brittany." B knew she was supposed to look her mother in the eye, but she couldn't handle seeing the emotional hurt she had caused as well as the physical. "I think… you really do need to see someone, sweetie."

It was the same doctor as before, except now he didn't have photos of graduating teenagers on his wall, but had photos of little toddlers in the arms of those same people that were much older now which sat amongst the cluster of files and paper on his desk. His hair was even blacker than the first time they met, no doubt artificial to cover up the grey roots that were threatening to appear. He runs through a variety of tests – some new and fun, some repetitive but confusing – and just like the first time, he hands over a bright red lolly to her for being so brave. The waiting for the results this time was even worse and anxious than before. B knew her mother struggles not to recoil when B moves too fast besides her and she hears her father stand in her doorway sometimes, hand on the knob, as he just watches her trying to sleep, thoughts and questions running through his mind. The doctor finally calls them back after almost a month of wariness and charade that everything was normal. B had stepped into the office with overflowing labels that people had put on her: girl, Cheerio, seventeen, slut, bisexual, ditzy, ADHD, dumb. She walked out of the office with another acronym to join all the other tags she was branded with: IED – Intermittent Explosive Disorder.

* * *

Santana pushes the apartment door open with her shoulder, hands already straining with the weight of the large brown bags full of groceries and cluster of keys that she throws hastily onto the dining table. The apartment was silent; Brittany was still at work, doing her art apprenticeship and didn't get back for another thirty minutes. Kicking the door shut with her ankle, Santana makes her way to the kitchen and props the bags down onto the cool marble surface. The action causes her sleeve to hike up slightly, revealing four long black and blue bruises parallel to each other just by her wrist. Flustered, Santana pushes her sleeves back down firmly, making a small note in the back of her mind to buy more anti-bruise cream on her next trip. She starts to unpack the food and stores it into their correct places. Brittany and Santana had moved out of small town Lima, just like they vowed they would. Their lives weren't perfect and the rent was just a fraction too expensive for a college student and an apprentice but it was everything that Santana had dreamed about – studying accountancy like a boss and living in a comfortable apartment with Brittany. The subconscious smile fades from her lips. Brittany was still just as beautiful, loving, funny and ditzy as she always was, except every now and then Brittany would slip and… Santana jumps at the sound of keys rattling in the lock. Discarding her previous drifting thoughts, she bounds to feet just in time to see the very blonde closing the door gently behind her.

"Hey, had a good day?" Brittany smiles and sluggishly moves towards Santana. It wasn't very long until she was in her arms, bathing in the warmth and comfort Santana's embrace always brought.

"Yeah, just tiring." Santana pulls back slightly to press a kiss against her lips. She had learnt a long time ago to not press for anything Brittany didn't already share.

"Okay babe, why don't you go have a shower? I'll just finish putting things away then I'll make us something to eat, all right?" Brittany nods as she yawns, pulling away from Santana.

"Thanks, I love you Santana." A weak smile appears on her lips as Santana takes in Brittany's stretching form as she moves to the bedroom.

"I love you too Brittany." She whispers to herself, convinced that she did, does and always will, regardless.

* * *

"…yeah, okay. See you soon then, bye… bye."

Santana disconnects the call and slides the phone back onto its base before moving towards the small study, just opposite the bathroom. It had originally been a guest room but having realised that Santana really didn't care if the guests were sleeping on the couch in the main room, they converted it into a study room. A ceiling-to-floor library dominated an entire wall whilst a desk sat in the opposite far corner parallel to the large window. Santana slips her head around the door and spots Brittany, sitting on a stool with a large canvas resting on a typical wooden stand right in front of her.

"Hey Brittany…" Santana speaks softly, wary that the blonde didn't really like to be disturbed if she was painting. Upon receiving no reply apart from brows furrowing a little more whilst fine strands of a brush presses a little harder onto the material, Santana enters the room quietly and tip toes around to stand directly behind Brittany to admire what she has been working on. Santana knew nothing about art and she never pretended to be, but even she could recognise the painting exactly. It was that park around the corner, the one they go to every other day in the summer, just to sunbathe a little and eat ridiculous amounts of ice cream. Santana smiles when she notices that there were no photos of the park anywhere in the room; Brittany must have painted from memory. Santana watches the delicate touch of the brush, smearing a fresh green colour onto a particular tree nearer the background of the painting.

"This is really good." The brush pauses mid-sweep. Brittany sighs and returns the brush to the pallet to collect more paint.

"There's something off… it just seems…" the blonde takes a deep breath and rolls her neck but fails to remove that uncomfortable knot between her shoulders. Noticing the discomfort, Santana brings both her hands to Brittany's shoulders and presses gently on the tense muscles.

"It's really good, you should stop expecting so much of yourself." Brittany closes her eyes and nods, desperately trying to allow Santana to work her strain away. "Quinn just called, you know."

"Mm?" Brittany felt better; she really did, but the nagging sensation just underneath her skin was persistent and refused to be removed by Santana's comforting touch.

"She wants us to go dinner with her and her newest sweetheart." Brittany nods, re-opening her eyes. The effect of the soothing massage being null, the blonde returns her attention to her work in front of her, picking up another paintbrush and dabbing it in black. Santana smiles to herself thinking that she helped Brittany in relaxing, she stops her action but leave her hands lying casually on the blonde's shoulders. "So how about it then? They have to be better than that last person she introduced us to."

"I'd love to." Ignoring the growing thumps under her skull, Brittany grazes on an 'm' onto the sky, marking out the wings of a bird in the distance repeatedly. "When is the dinner?" Santana bends her head down to rest her cheek on the top of Brittany's head.

"This Friday, something about meeting the best friends before taking on the parents at the weekend… Brittany, what's wrong?" Santana snaps back upright the instant she feels her girlfriend tense up again. Instead of acting out on the urge to slam her head against the nearest wall, Brittany focuses her attention and will into simply retracing the bird again and again, making it begin to look to large in comparison with the other birds around it. She clears her throat before speaking, attempting to calm herself down a little over something so trivial.

"I have to go to that art exhibition downtown this Friday." Santana hesitates; her hands unconsciously gripping Brittany fractionally tighter, all of a sudden far too aware of the fading bruises marring her skin all over her wrists.

"Okay that's no problem, I'll call Quinn and tell her we can't make that day. It's fine." Brittany knows Santana is trying to diffuse the annoyance building up in the blonde, but she can already feel the ants waking up and slowly moving about up her back.

"Why am I always so difficult? I can't _not_ go to the gallery but Quinn needs us too." Shivering, Brittany counts up to ten in her head to no avail, she can feel the elastic band in her chest stretch tighter and there was nothing she could do about it apart from simply wait until the band snaps.

"Brittany, it's okay. It's fine, relax. I can go myself, she'll understand." Bright flashing red lights go off in the back of Santana's mind, warning her to leave but she stubbornly ignores the signs and moves to crouch down beside Brittany, one hand stroking her back in an attempt to slow her erratic breathing and frantic motions across the canvas.

"God I'm so fucking annoying." Brittany rocks quickly back and forwards, almost tipping herself off of the stool. She had moved the brush over the same patch so much that the painting was ruined. Santana's hand strokes with a little more pressure and panic.

"It's okay, relax baby, its fine-" Brittany's loses herself. The anger bubbling beneath her skin suddenly erupts causing her vision and mind to blank out. Brittany didn't know how long her blind outburst lasted or even what happened. All she could feel was the frustration stampeding through her arteries and rage tearing through her veins. She could hear nothing but a shrill ring in her ears and see next to nothing behind that screen of white haze. Beyond that canopy, the blonde could barely make out blurs of movement, coloured objects flying around and the terror in Santana's eyes. That last image made Brittany hurt; it really pained her to see Santana so frightened. Brittany tried with all her might to stop her arms from flinging around and knocking carefully arranged books off the shelves but it was useless, the overpowering rage in the forefront of her mind was too strong and stubborn to do anything but destruction.

It almost felt like she had passed out and woken back up again by the time she came around out of her uncontrollable explosion. With eyes still closed, (honestly, she was afraid to see the damage she had caused) Brittany basks in the feeling of release and relief as she inhales the much needed air to calm her racing heart. Slowly, she unclenches her hands, a hard rectangular slipping through her fingers and landing on the carpet with a soft thud.

"Santana?" Brittany winces at both the pain in her throat and how hoarse she sounded. She must have been screaming a lot again.

"I'm right here babe." Brittany's eyes flutters open and is instantly bombarded with an image (an image that she's regrettably seen too many times) that flushes the previous calm and tranquillity away with stabs straight into her chest. Despite her violent actions, Brittany never once came out of one of her incidents injured. Yes, the room itself would have suffered from a blitz attack, but the blonde herself would walk out without a single scratch or even a simple bruise. Instead, the cuts and bleeding would be evident on Santana, who would rather stay and embrace the inevitable irrational outburst than to allow Brittany to be harmed from her own actions.

Books lied scattered open around Santana who sat with knees drawn to her chest and back pressed to the wall just beside the door – the open door. _She could have left,_ Brittany thought, a tear of pain trickling from her eyes whilst a tear of anguish trickled from her broken heart. _She could have escaped me, but she stayed._

Brittany drops to knees, not caring that she was crushing books beneath her. No matter how much she wanted to move those two feet and wrap herself around Santana, the blonde couldn't permit herself the privilege to be so close to the frail latina.

"I don't deserve you." Brittany aimed her words to a specific book, creased and ruined just by her own feet. She couldn't bring herself to look at the gashes and pain that _she_ had caused.

"I love you Brittany." The blonde wants to cry, she can feel the ache in her chest and the roughness in her throat as she swallows with difficult. She wants to cry, but even her body is angry at her for losing control hence punishing her by prohibiting her release from the guilt that was chipping at her.

"You shouldn't. I'm no good – I do nothing but hurt you, again and again." The blonde misses the gentle smile that appears on Santana's lips or her small shaking of her head.

"I love you Brittany." Santana repeats, as if the blonde had given her the wrong answer the first time. Brittany wishes Santana didn't. She wishes that Santana would have had enough, stand up for herself and just leave. To just walk away from the destruction and damage that was Brittany Pierce. But the blonde knew in her heart that there weren't enough shooting stars in the universe for her wish to come true.

"I love you too Santana." The other girl smiles as she stretches out a hand with her palms up. Brittany was almost relieved that she didn't have to face the aftermath of her mind lapse. She knew that deep cuts were present on the back of that outstretched hand. Brittany slips her own hand into Santana's, conflicted by the feeling of loving the way they fitted so perfectly and hating the way they fitted together so perfectly.

Santana loved Brittany from the first day, to the first kiss, to the first outburst. She loved her and despite anything that came between them (family, society, illnesses); Santana will always continue to love Brittany - for better and for worse.

* * *

A/N: I've completed two Brittana fics and they've both been a one-shot and super angsty. I've actually written the majority of two other muti-chapter fics that I promise are far, far less angsty. If you're intrigued have a look at my profile but before that, a review on this would definitely make my day. Thanks!


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